The Fallen
by Psamathe
Summary: Tag for Episode 1, Series 3 after the case has been solved. Gene/Alex. Contains spoilers for Season 3.


The wound in her gut ached. No matter how she twisted and turned, Alex couldn't seem to make herself comfortable. There was a certain irony. An imaginary wound in an imaginary world but it hurt like hell.

She'd swallowed a handful of aspirin, but whichever way she lay, she couldn't escape the dull, nagging pain.

It was still early. Alex could hear the noise from the restaurant down below, but hadn't felt the urge to join her boisterous colleagues. Her body was beyond tired. The muscles weakened by three months of inactivity, she should have been able to sleep.

The television played quietly in the background but Alex paid scant attention to the images that were rapidly flickering across the screen, half scared of what she might see… yet she couldn't quite bring herself to switch it off.

Scattered around the sofa were notes she had made. One word repeated time and again … Gene. Each theory seemed wilder than the one before. She wasn't going to take the risk of dictating her thoughts aloud. Paper would burn.

In her time away she had developed an idealized picture of this world but it was darker, more violent… more real than she remembered. She touched her jaw, gingerly, feeling the slight bruise where Gene had slapped her. Alex wanted to believe that it had been a desperate action by a desperate man but… Somewhere, languishing in a police cell, there was a woman who had let her ex-husband fracture her cheekbone.

"You can't help which way you fall," Alex murmured.

She didn't like to think that she had anything in common with Marjorie Blonde. It would mean acknowledging the disturbing truth lurking in the depths of her psyche. A truth that, if she were honest, scared the hell out of her.

A distant roar echoed from the street below, and Alex guessed that Luigi had finally managed to close his restaurant. Moving to the window she looked out, mentally accounting for her colleagues as they went their separate ways. There was one notable exception. Alex had already stuffed her notes under the couch by the time she heard the pounding on the door.

He was standing outside, a bottle of red and two glasses clutched in his hands.

"Haven't you had enough?" Alex asked.

"Always room for one more," he replied, pushing past her into the flat.

"Guv, I'm tired and…"

But he ignored her protests and poured the wine. He raised his glass to her,

"Welcome back, Bols."

Trying to smile, Alex took a sip of her wine, quickly realizing that this wasn't just another bottle of Luigi's house rubbish. An expensive, elegant selection, something she would ever have expected from the Gene Genie. She placed the glass down carefully. Her tolerance for alcohol was currently non-existent.

Gene was looking closely at her.

"Sit down, before you fall down, " he said.

Hating herself for it, Alex followed his order, drawing her feet up as he sat on the other end of the sofa. She couldn't help wincing as the change in position caused a flash of pain through her gut.

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"You're lying to me again, Bolls… which is what got you shot."

"I didn't … " Alex began, and then realized that there wasn't really any point in arguing with him. Gene would believe what he wanted and nothing she could say would persuade him otherwise.

She just wanted him to leave, but since he was busy pouring himself another glass of wine, Alex didn't think he had plans to go anywhere. He moved to top up her glass and frowned when he realized that she had barely touched it.

"What's the matter? Going soft on me? "

"I had too much of Jim's champagne."

"Jim? Didn't take him long to get in your knickers. "

Not amused, Alex nudged Gene's thigh with one foot.

"Jim will not be getting anywhere near my knickers, thank you very much."

"He's a Thatcherite wanker … just your type."

Alex ignored the jibe, more interested in the reason why Gene had taken an instant dislike to the younger man.

"You don't like him?" she said.

"No, I don't."

"Why?'

"You're the psychiatrist, you work it out."

"Psycholo…"

His grin cut her off mid sentence and she kicked him a little harder in retaliation for his teasing.

"So tell me… why don't you like him?" she pushed, moving to nudge him again.

He caught hold of her feet before she could repeat the action, pulling both into his lap.

"That's annoying, Bolly."

"But you missed me?"

"Yeah, I did."

Almost absently he started to rub her feet. For the life of her, Alex couldn't work out why he was doing this, but she quickly realized that she didn't care. It felt good. He was only touching her feet and Alex was having fantasies about what he could do to the rest of her body.

"You have nice hands," she said, trying to keep the purr out of her voice.

Gene stopped, "Do I have pretty eyes as well?" he asked.

"Pretty?" Alex considered this for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Not pretty. Your eyes have seen too much. Sometimes I look into them and…"

"And what?"

"You scare the shit out of me."

He turned towards her, seemingly surprised by her admission. Alex drew her feet back.

"I don't want you to be scared of me Alex. The scum should be shitting themselves… but not you," he said.

Alex found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"Gene I've seen you beat a man within an inch of his life," she said quietly.

"They probably deserved it."

"But you took a little girl's hand and protected her when her world exploded. I don't know you Gene. I can't be sure whether your next action will be one of unspeakable violence or compassion."

He raised his hand to touch her face and Alex flinched. Unable to stop the involuntary reaction, she protected the place where he'd slapped her.

"Any other man would have kissed me."

"I'm not a prince Bolly."

"No… no you're not. But I thought the man I married was a prince and he turned out to be a bastard. "

"I'm already a bastard."

To her surprise, he lent towards her and brushed a kiss along her jaw.

"There you are… all better now."

Smiling, Alex held out her hand and Gene passed her the abandoned glass of wine.


End file.
